The Berry and the Hougyoku
by Sariniste
Summary: A mysterious man rides up to the village inn where the once-powerful sorcerer Ichigo Kurosaki has been living a quiet life ever since he lost his powers. The man offers to restore his abilities—but for a price. Ichigo-centric. AU.


**The Berry and the Hougyoku – Chap. 1**

**A/N:** A mysterious man rides up to the village inn where the once-powerful sorcerer Ichigo Kurosaki has been living a quiet life ever since he lost his powers. The man offers to restore his abilities—but for a price. Will Ichigo follow the man on his quest to rid the world of evil? Adventure/fantasy AU.

Ichigo-centric; focus will be on adventure rather than romance.

**Characters in this chapter:** Ichigo, Isshin, Urahara, Yoruichi

**Pairings in this chapter:** Urahara/Yoruichi

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

(Originally posted 6/10/2011; edited 6/11/2011.)

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Two travelers came riding up the east road just as twilight began to settle over the long, narrow fields of Karakura. The village consisted of a small cluster of houses huddled together at the crossroads, where the north road led off toward the mountains blue in the distance. The taller of the two riders eyed the small knot of shabby buildings with a wry look, and made a soft comment to his companion, who returned an acerbic reply.

The man had pale white-blond hair straggling out from under an odd green-and-white striped hat pulled low over his eyes. He wore a dark green travel cloak and stained leather boots. His companion was a dark-skinned woman with golden eyes and long purple hair bound up in a ponytail. They were both dusty from long days of travel, and exhaustion was visible in the lines around their eyes.

They drew rein outside a large, freshly whitewashed two-story inn. A wide door at the top of several broad steps stood partway open, warm yellow light spilling out of it into the rapidly darkening street. They could hear a cheerful hubbub from within, with an occasional voice raised in song or calling for ale. Above the door was a lamp casting its light over a signboard upon which was painted an odd-looking orange stuffed animal. Lettering above the painting proclaimed the inn "The House of the Stuffed Lion."

The dark-skinned woman lifted one eyebrow at the man, who merely shrugged. Then he dismounted, threw the reins over a hitching post, and entered the inn. The woman followed.

Inside, the large common room of the inn was filled to capacity with people, smoke, the smells of hearty cooking, a barrage of sound, and raucous laughter. A tall, muscular man with unkempt black hair and several days' worth of stubble bustled to the door to greet them, wiping his hands on his stained white apron.

"Good evening, folks. How may I help you tonight?" His brown eyes glanced over them shrewdly, taking in the worn, travel-stained clothing and the comical hat, but not dismissing them. The man in the striped hat smiled, lowering his head in a humble gesture.

"We're looking for a man named Ichigo Kurosaki," he said. He peered out from under his hat at the tall innkeeper.

The man's eyes narrowed. "Don't think I know anybody by that name."

"Maybe this would help refresh your memory." The blond reached into his leather bag.

The tall man held out his hand. "Stop. I'm not interested in your money."

"No. This isn't money." The blond turned his hand palm upwards. Resting in the center of it was a small pewter badge with an intricate design etched upon it. He kept his eyes on the black-haired man's face as he heard his sharp intake of breath.

The man placed one finger on the badge, felt the low vibration there. He met the gray eyes beneath the other man's hat and nodded once. Then he jerked his head toward the back of the room. "Don't know if he'll talk to you. But he's sitting at the corner table there. The one with the orange hair." He turned and without a backward glance returned to his spot behind the long, polished bar at one end of the room.

The two travelers threaded their way through the crowded room. The man they had been directed to sat alone at a small table, back against the wall, a half-finished tankard of ale in front of him. He looked up as the pair approached him, brown eyes wary beneath a head of messy orange hair.

The blond stopped in front of him. "I'm looking for Ichigo Kurosaki, the sorcerer."

Slowly, the orange-haired man lifted the tankard to his mouth, drank. He glared at the two strangers. "You've found Berry, the herbalist and healer." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Never heard of the other fellow."

"Mind if we join you?" asked the man in the striped hat. Not waiting for an answer, he pulled out one of the rough wooden chairs and sat. The other man frowned, but shrugged and said nothing as the two newcomers seated themselves across from him. A buxom, blonde barmaid came over to their table, smiling.

The man in the hat looked up. "A tankard of ale for me, please, and a tall glass of milk for the young lady." He looked at the orange-haired man. "Can I get you anything?" The other man shook his head, and he looked back at the barmaid. "That's all."

After she left, he leaned back in his chair and eyed the younger man. "There was a time," he said, "when the name of Ichigo Kurosaki, the mightiest sorcerer in the land, was synonymous with the power of good, a force for justice. When the cry of 'Getsuga Tenshou' struck fear into the hearts of criminals and evildoers everywhere."

The orange-haired man rolled his eyes in disgust and his lips twisted bitterly. "That was a time before he was defeated by the dark enchanter Sousuke Aizen, and broken first in his torture chambers and then in his pleasure rooms." He drank again, met the other's eyes. "Now he no longer has any power to speak of, and spends his days eking out a poor living as a simple herbalist. Do you need a poultice or healing potion? That I can help you with. Nothing else."

"I would have thought that Kurosaki might dream of revenge against his former captor, the man who still holds most of his homeland under his sway."

The orange-haired man snorted. "Revenge? I am powerless. If I weren't, he would have destroyed me long ago. The only reason the Lord of Hueco Mundo hasn't sent agents to kill me is because I am no longer any threat to him."

The barmaid returned with another tankard of ale and a mug of milk, plunked them on the heavy wooden table, where some of the liquid slopped over the sides. The blond smiled up at her with thanks and she grinned at him, pulling out a dirty washcloth and wiping up the spills.

Then he returned his gaze to the orange-haired man before he lifted his tankard to him, gazing at him over the rim of the mug.

"Still," he murmured, "if an opportunity came up once more, perhaps Tensa Zangetsu might ride again?"

Angrily, the man who called himself Berry pushed back from the table. With a quick gesture he pulled open his shirt, revealing a well-muscled chest beneath.

His skin was criss-crossed with angry-looking, ropy scars. "These are the marks Aizen left on my body," he said in a low, furious tone. "The scars on my mind, and on my source of power, are no less vicious." Rage combined with horror boiled up in him again at the memory of the years he had spent as Aizen's captive so long ago; the enchanter's beautiful face swam once again into his mind's eye, the deep, gentle voice alternating between mock sympathy and dispassionate cruelty, the mesmerizing brown eyes boring into his, turning his soul inside out… He shook his head with angry irritation. Why were these two coming here to remind him of this? And who were they? He had caught Isshin's signal from the bar earlier. He wouldn't have sent them back if they were Aizen's agents, if they hadn't passed his inspection. But who were they and why were they here?

The shaggy-haired man frowned at the sight of his scars. "That would have made the Ichigo Kurosaki I heard of only more resolved to defeat his enemy." He leaned forward again. "What if your powers could be restored? What if you had a chance to destroy the source of Aizen's power?"

Ichigo snorted. "My powers can't be restored. Some of the finest sorcerers in this part of the world have tried." His eyes narrowed. "And what do you know of the source of Aizen's power?"

"The Hougyoku?" The blond smiled as Ichigo stiffened and blanched at the word.

"How do you know about that…?" Ichigo's voice trailed off. "Most people only mention Kyouka Suigetsu. That device you mention is one of his most closely guarded secrets."

The blond smiled and straightened under his striped hat. "My name… is Kisuke Urahara. And the Hougyoku will never be a secret from me, its creator."

Ichigo's eyes widened, and then darted from him to his companion. "No…" he whispered. "You can't be…" His voice trailed off. _Urahara…_ As a young student of sorcery, he had studied the doings of this man, whose works had filled several textbooks. Urahara had been the head of the Seireitei Research and Development Institute; he had single-handedly been responsible for most of the magical advances of the past three hundred years.

"The legendary sorcerer of the Seireitei Guild… the man who once sealed and imprisoned Aizen…" Ichigo murmured, an edge of awe in his voice. He hadn't even known the man was still alive after three hundred years.

Urahara cocked his head to one side. A modest expression spread over his face. "Aw. You flatter me. And it's _former_ sorcerer of the Seireitei Guild. I was expelled for 'unauthorized experiments.' And Aizen escaped from my seal, so it couldn't have been all that good." But he continued to watch the younger man carefully. "We've come all the way from the White Hills to see you. That's ten days' travel if you didn't know," he added.

Ichigo's eyes turned to the woman. "You must be Yoruichi Shihouin then. The sorceress and shape-shifter. Princess of the Tenshiheisoban. What are you doing here?"

She gave him a warm smile. "It's always pleasant to be recognized. We've come a long way to see you. We knew you had escaped. How did that happen, by the way?"

An image of a beautiful, green-haired woman flashed into Ichigo's memory and he pushed it away, guilt welling up in him once more. Nel had saved him at the cost of her own mind. She was still in Aizen's palace, suffering who knew what tortures at his hands. "Never mind how," he said, scowling. "I still want to know why you're here."

"Because we've finally found a way to destroy the Hougyoku. We're ready at last to defeat Aizen." She paused and looked at him levelly out of her yellow, cat-like eyes. "And because we need your help, Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Hah!" Ichigo leaned back with a sarcastic laugh. "_My_ help? I would have thought the respected Urahara and Shihouin would have known better than that." His mouth twisted. "Don't you know I was Aizen's captive for over a decade? He played with my mind as well as my body. By the end of it I wasn't even sure whose side I was on any more. Even if you could bring my powers back," he said, his eyes flaring briefly with what could have been longing, "you wouldn't be able to trust me in Aizen's presence." He hunched his body away from them and drank again. "No. Go find someone else."

Yoruichi put one long, dark-skinned hand over his. "You are the only one who can help us. Your powers are unique." She looked up at him with warm, golden eyes. "Please. You're not the only one Aizen has harmed. Only last month, in a village three days travel to the east— did you hear?" she asked.

Ichigo shook his head.

"Aizen's forces swooped down in the middle of the night. They were led by the ones he calls the Espada, those vile creatures conjured up by sorcery. They rounded up every soul from the village— more than fifty men, women and children. Captured and bound them. Took them back to Las Noches, where Aizen fed their souls to the Hougyoku."

Ichigo bit his lip and looked away. "Yeah. I know it constantly needs to be fed."

"Only one woman from the village escaped. The village weaver and healer. She was collecting herbs by moonlight when they arrived. She came back home and everyone she had ever known was gone, just like that. We found her and took her with us." Yoruichi's eyes were piercing. "She can tell you what it was like." She paused as Ichigo closed his eyes. "And these atrocities happen every few months. That's what it's like under Aizen's rule."

"Don't I know it," Ichigo muttered.

Yoruichi put her fists on her hips. "And you're willing to let this continue? When we're here to offer you a chance to fight back?"

Ichigo gave a long sigh. "_Let_ this continue? When was it all placed in my hands?"

Yoruichi's eyes bored into him. "It is now. It's your powers that are required to destroy the Hougyoku. Do you really want more people to die at Aizen's hands? He needs so many souls to feed his power… It's only a matter of time before he comes after your friends, your neighbors… your family."

Ichigo glared, first at Yoruichi, then at Urahara. "I can't believe this, that people like you want someone like me." Then he looked straight into Urahara's eyes. "Can you truly restore my powers?"

"Eh…" Urahara placed one hand behind his neck and looked up at a corner of the ceiling. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure of it."

"_Pretty_ sure of it?" asked Ichigo in disbelief. "You came all this way on '_pretty sure'_?"

Yoruichi gave Urahara a swift elbow in the ribs. "Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his side ruefully.

She glared at him before turning back to Ichigo. "It's just more of his misguided sense of humor. Of course we can restore your powers. The only question is, are you willing to help us in return?"

"All right." Ichigo drained his tankard, set it down on the table with a thump. "I'll tell you what. You restore my powers fully— and if you were anybody but Urahara and Shihouin, I wouldn't believe it was possible— and _if_, after working with me for that length of time, if you still think I'll be helpful to your cause, I'll go up with you against Aizen."

The man and the woman exchanged a long glance. Then Urahara turned to Ichigo. "I think we've got ourselves a deal."

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**A/N:** Do you recognize any of the unnamed characters mentioned in the story?


End file.
